


no more complicated (than a kiss like this)

by ourdarkspirits



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Like really stupid, M/M, Middle Ages, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, idiots to lovers, they're so stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourdarkspirits/pseuds/ourdarkspirits
Summary: Yusuf considers himself to be open and honest with his emotions, wearing them for the world to see. Yet the man he most wants to share those emotions with appears not to notice. He’s drawn his eyes, his mouth, his hands more times than he cares to admit. He cannot hide his attraction to Nicolò. And yet everything he does is met with indifference.Yusuf is in love with Nicolò and Nicolò is apparently oblivious, so he decides to take advantage of a less-than-ideal situation.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 309





	no more complicated (than a kiss like this)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [c'est quoi ce bonheur](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiMo7T7vMXuAhXqHzQIHSZFCIAQyCkwAnoECAYQAw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DgtVVW-PrIic&usg=AOvVaw0cxi9US5LX2MqD7dOps-iO) by MIKA
> 
> Because I wrote some tags in [this post](https://mamsellefreeman.tumblr.com/post/641677080970575872) and wasn't able to let it go until I wrote the fic

Yusuf walks through the streets of Cairo, returning from his morning at the _madrasa._ He has come to enjoy studying with the scholars, keeping up with modern thought, and distracting himself from thoughts of the man he’s been traveling with since the sack of al-Quds. Unfortunately for Yusuf, those thoughts return in full force as he lets himself into the rooms he and Nicolò are renting.

This is the longest they’ve stayed in one place in a couple of years and it has begun to feel almost domestic. Not that it matters, he thinks, as he starts putting his things away. The rooms are empty; Nicolò must still be out. It allows him time to dwell on the man who has come to mean everything to him. The man whose eerie eyes have grown on Yusuf so much that whenever he looks at Nicolò, he feels himself getting lost in that storm grey gaze.

Yusuf considers himself to be open and honest with his emotions, wearing them for the world to see. Yet the man he most wants to share those emotions with appears not to notice. He’s drawn his eyes, his mouth, his hands more times than he cares to admit. He cannot hide his attraction to Nicolò. And yet everything he does is met with indifference. Yusuf must conclude that he is either completely oblivious or he does not return Yusuf’s affections.

Nicolò returns to their rooms, pulling Yusuf from his thoughts. “I stopped at the markets,” he announces as he closes the door behind him. “I found the olives you like.”

“Oh?” Joe goes into the small room that Nicolò uses to prepare their food. When Nicolò sees him he passes over a small clay jar with that enigmatic smile of his. It’s been years since they stopped killing each other and Yusuf has never seen a full smile on the other man’s face. He takes the jar from Nicolò with a murmur of thanks.

He sits down at the little table and they slip into easy conversation about the day. Yusuf thinks that this could be enough, that it _will_ be enough if Nicolò doesn’t return his affection. This easy camaraderie they have developed—the comfort of friendship—will suffice.

“We’ve been living here a while,” Nicolò remarks sometime later. “People will start to notice us.”

Yusuf hums in agreement. “Where do you want to go next?”

Nicolò shrugs, but he’s not really looking at Yusuf, just pushing his food around his bowl. Yusuf desperately wishes Nicolò would look back up at him. He wants to see those eyes, once so disconcerting and now so mesmerizing.

“Perhaps we should go farther west,” Nicolò suggests. “I could see where you are from.”

Yusuf feels a sharp pang in his gut. He has tried not to think of his family, what they would say if they knew that he could not die. As far as they know, Yusuf died in Jerusalem. So rather than acknowledge the suggestion, he deflects. “We could go north. Across the sea, where you grew up.”

Nicolò looks up with a hard expression. “There is nothing for me there.”

Yusuf meets Nicolò’s sharp look and holds it. He had wanted Nicky to look at him again but not like this. “We can decide later,” he says finally. “We don’t have to make a decision now.”

Nicolò nods and they drop the conversation. The rest of the evening feels all too domestic when Yusuf cannot seem to stop thinking about how he has fallen in love with Nicolò. Yusuf has tried broaching the subject in the past, but Nicolò has never seemed receptive. After all this time, Nicolò still maintains an easy friendship with him, never seeming to want anything more. Yusuf is beginning to feel like he’s at his wit’s end.

He wants Nicolò so much, but how can he tell the man that when it appears he doesn’t want Yusuf at all?

* * *

Not even a week later, they’re walking through the markets when they see a woman being accosted by a much larger man. Nicolò is off before Yusuf has time to suggest they help. All he can do is sprint after Nicolò who already has a dagger in hand.

The pair of them easily dispatch the man, but before they can disappear into the crowds, they are apprehended by a patrol of city guards. Yusuf sighs in resignation. The thunderous look on Nicolò’s face only intensifies and when he looks around and Yusuf sees the woman is gone. _Damn._

Now it just looks like a brawl in the middle of a public market that has left one man dead. Nicolò has always been very good with a blade, though now is likely not the time to appreciate such a thing. They look like the aggressors, and so the guards are here to apprehend them and there is no time for Yusuf and Nicolò to make an escape.

Yusuf expects to be escorted to a prison or holding cell, but instead they’re brought to the administrative building of the palace complex. He thinks back to that conversation a few days ago and wishes they had already moved on; if they had, they wouldn’t be in this predicament.

They are shuffled into a small room with no windows. The guard who’s brought them here closes the door behind him and the room is plunged briefly into darkness. Then the guard lights a lamp and Yusuf curses himself for not taking advantage of the moment. Nicolò’s face is set in a sour expression that he is fairly certain is mirrored on his own; as if he, too, had been preparing to tackle the guard himself, but now the room is lit and they’ve lost the element of surprise.

“Do you know who you’ve killed?” the guard asks them, folding his arms across his chest. Yusuf resists the urge to snort at his attempt to look intimidating.

Nicolò shrugs his shoulders. “A man who was assaulting a woman?”

His Arabic has improved greatly over the years, but at this moment Yusuf wishes it had not. The guard wasn’t looking for an answer and the expression on his face darkens angrily. They might not be in any real danger, being immortal, but dying in this windowless room in the palace would be inconvenient at best. It would certainly make the need to leave Cairo much more pressing.

“No,” the guard says. “He was a high ranking government official.”

“Perhaps he should have comported himself like one,” Nicolò remarks drily. “If he had, we would not have felt compelled to step in to assist the woman he was assaulting.”

Nicolò is correct, but right now Yusuf wishes he would stop talking. The guard’s expression is becoming grimmer by the second, and he’s fairly certain they’re going to die in this room.

“It does not matter what he was doing at the time of his death,” the guard practically growls. “What matters is that you killed him.”

“It should,” Nicolò starts but Yusuf cuts him off.

“Nicolò, please,” he says, shooting him a warning look.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò starts again, but this time he’s cut off by the guard.

“Stop talking,” the man growls, and Yusuf is actually surprised he hasn’t hit one of them yet. A tic has been developing in his jaw ever since Nicolò started talking.

“So what are you going to do with us, then?” Nicolò asks and Yusuf sees the moment the guard’s control snaps.

He lunges at Nicolò and Yusuf throws himself at the guard in an effort to protect Nicolò, but he’s a moment too slow. The guard lands a blow to Nicolò’s face—there will be a bruise that heals much too quickly—before Yusuf gets his arms around the guard’s waist. He loses his grip but manages to grab a key ring before he falls from the guard and receives a kick to the stomach for his efforts.

The guard storms out of the room a moment later, the door slamming in the frame behind him. At least, Yusuf thinks, the lamp is still lit. He pockets the key ring before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I cannot believe we are stuck in this room, somewhere in the administrative palaces,” Nicolò grumbles. “This is very inconvenient.”

“It might have gone better,” Yusuf remarks, “if you had not insisted on provoking the guard.”

“I was telling the truth.”

“Yes, to a man who was working up a temper, while we are being held as prisoners,” Yusuf reminds him.

Nicolò doesn’t dignify that with a response. He’s gone back to looking around the room, thinking. “If we had a key, perhaps. But no, we are stuck in this room, while bureaucrats decide our fate.”

Yusuf’s hand falls to the pocket where he slipped the key ring and he thinks about telling Nicolò that they do have keys, but after a moment’s thought he decides to wait. Nicolò is in a mood that would have him arguing to use those keys right now, when the palace is surely too busy for them to slip away unnoticed. So he keeps the information to himself and watches Nicolò pace some more.

“Why are you not more upset?” Nicolò asks suddenly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now,” Yusuf replies. “And I am upset, because I’m fairly certain we’re going to die in this room, and then we’re going to have to disappear from Cairo, and we probably should have done that already, and now it’s going to be harder.”

He slides down the wall to sit on the floor and Nicolò joins him. “We were in the right,” Nicolò says, and it almost sounds like an apology. “And, as you know, I am a stubborn man.”

“Yes,” Yusuf sighs. “I know.”

“At least they put us in a room together,” he adds after another quiet moment.

“Hmm, better than being alone,” Yusuf agrees, allowing himself to slide a little closer to Nicolò.

When Nicolò doesn’t move away, Yusuf starts thinking. He’s decided he will try again to say something to the man he loves and if he is once again met with indifference, he will not say anything more on the subject. He takes a deep breath and tries not to think of the times before, when he thought he had made his feelings obvious, and the rejection he felt when the man now sitting next to him did not respond in kind. If Nicolò doesn’t return his feelings, he will never bring it up again. He will be content to roam the world with this man at his side, as a friend. He will learn to put his feelings aside.

“Nicolò,” he begins, but Yusuf's breath gets caught somewhere in his chest when Nicolò shifts closer and takes Yusuf’s hand. He somehow manages to breathe again and says, “If I have to be stuck in a windowless cell with someone, there’s no one I’d rather be with.”

Yusuf closes his eyes, waiting, hoping Nicolò will understand. He can hardly breathe. All he can do is focus on how close Nicolò is, on the way Nicolò’s hand feels in his.

“Yusuf.” Nicolò’s voice is hoarse and his grip on Yusuf’s hand tightens. Yusuf waits for him to continue.

“Please, Nicolò. If you don’t return my feelings, please tell me,” Yusuf says, still unable to meet Nicolò’s eyes.

“Your—” his voice is choked. “What do you mean? Your feelings?” There is genuine confusion in Nicolò’s voice.

“How could you not know?” Yusuf asks, finally looking at Nicolò. He sees the same confusion in Nicolò’s face that he heard in his voice. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me,” Nicolò replies, and really he’s impossibly close. Yusuf thinks he could die right now; he’s not sure when he last took a breath. “I didn’t know. I thought.” Nicolò clears his throat. “I thought you did not want me. I thought, given how we met, we could never be other than friends.”

Quite suddenly, it’s impossible for Yusuf not to kiss Nicolò. He reaches forward with his free hand, letting it slide along Nicolò’s jaw and presses forward. Nicolò meets him halfway. The press of Nicolò’s lips is warm and it’s like coming home. He doesn’t know how he waited this long. Kissing Nicolò feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Then Nicolò’s mouth opens under his and his tongue slides against Yusuf's and suddenly Yusuf can’t think. His mind goes completely blank of anything except the feel Nicolò’s body pressed against his, Nicolò’s fingers tangled in his hair, Nicolò’s mouth. He groans, and he can feel Nicolò smiling against his mouth. He needs to be closer, so he crawls into Nicolò’s lap and is rewarded with the feeling of Nicolò’s hands sliding down his back and holding him close.

He wants to taste Nicolò, the salt of sweat on his skin, so he breaks the kiss and lowers his mouth instead to Nicolò’s jaw. He kisses along Nicolò’s neck, earning a groan that goes straight to Yusuf’s cock. Nicolò’s hips buck up against him as Yusuf grinds down, and he hadn’t really meant to fuck Nicolò in a holding cell while under arrest in Cairo, but now that he’s started kissing the love of his life he can’t seem to stop. Nicolò doesn’t appear to want him to, either. Later, he will lay him down in a bed and do this properly. Maybe much later if they end up having to make a hasty escape, but he can’t think about that right now.

He finds he can’t think at all when he feels the heat of Nicolò’s hand against his cock through layers of clothing, a touch that steals his breath.

“Shit. Shit, Nicolò,” Yusuf gasps against his neck, pressing into the heat of his hand.

He fumbles to get a hand between them, desperate to feel the weight of Nicolò’s erection. It’s not enough. He wants to know the feel of Nicolò’s skin against his. But they are limited by the situation and Yusuf will make do. However, it appears his love will not. He’s fumbling with Yusuf’s clothes and then suddenly he feels Nicolò’s hand on him like fire, and he cannot hold back the loud groan that escapes his lips. He grinds into Nicolò’s grip, and he’s already so close that he can feel pleasure running from the base of his spine all the way up to his skull. It’s the most incredible feeling in the world, and he falls over the edge, spilling into Nicolò’s hand. They’re going to be a mess, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care.

Nicolò’s hand runs up and down Yusuf’s back as his breathing slows, and he finds he may have to revise his earlier opinion. Being held by Nicolò, cherished by Nicolò, is wonderful; it is the best feeling in the world Yusuf raises his head from where it had dropped against Nicolò’s shoulder and meets those arresting eyes. At some point over the years, sea grey became his favorite color.

There are crinkles around his eyes as they meet Yusuf’s, and Yusuf loves them. He presses a kiss to Nicolò’s lips, gentle, letting his hands roam, pushing fabric out of the way, until he is stroking Nicolò’s cock. He brushes his thumb against the head and grins when Nicolò’s breath stutters. He wants to enjoy this, take his time, listen to all the sounds Nicolò makes, but all too soon, Nicolò comes with an aborted cry that he buries in Yusuf’s neck.

After, they collapse against each other, still breathing heavily. Sweat pools at the base of Yusuf’s spine, slick and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. He has Nicolò.

“I suppose I should have said,” Yusuf murmurs into Nicolò’s neck. “I am in love with you.”

“That’s good,” Nicolò replies, pulling him closer. “I am in love with you too.”

* * *

They use the key ring Yusuf had lifted from the guard when no one comes to check on them and slip out of the palaces mostly unseen. When they return to their rooms, it is only to collect their things. They can no longer stay in Cairo. The city’s guards will continue to look for their escaped prisoners.

When they walk out of the city, Yusuf is holding Nicolò’s hand. He doesn’t know where they will go next, but it doesn’t matter. It is a truth now: he has Nicolò.


End file.
